


In Deep

by AvatarWanderful



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarWanderful/pseuds/AvatarWanderful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hell Bent, Clara spends a while in 1940s New York and meets a veteran trying to move on with her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Deep

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to Beth for betaing.  
> Prompts are welcome at trashanddrivel.tumblr.com

One history lesson when she was 15, Clara had come to the conclusion that the late 1940s were a strange time. After receiving so much respect for their part in the war effort, women had returned to being second class citizens the moment the men came home. It was incomprehensible to her that after such a demonstration of their value, society could still think that a woman should be a housewife first and foremost.  
Such was her fascination with the oxymoronic nature of women's rights at the time, Clara had decided to take a break from her travels with Me and spend the year living (or perhaps not dying would be a more accurate description of her activities) in New York City. So, she rented a tiny, altogether awful apartment and moved in the small collection of belongings she had amassed in her travels since undying.

xxx

Clara soon realised that living forever did not earn a living, and took a job at a local phone company in order to pay rent. It was a horrifically dull waste of time, but time had lost much of its meaning to Clara so she could hardly complain.  
The only interesting thing about the job was that the whole company was definitely a cover for something. Clara didn't know what, but there was a room at the back that the girls there didn't go into. She saw men go into that room, but she didn't see men come out. It reminded her of Mrs Williams' apartment on the floor below, where dogs went in, but dogs didn't come out. It was always the same guys going in though, so Clara figured they probably left after all the women left. Only one woman ever went into the room and Clara recognised her from the apartment - she lived three floors above Clara.  
Every time she saw The Woman, Clara was reminded of Jane Austen, her Jane. The Woman walked with the same swagger Jane always had, the swagger of a woman who refused to buckle under societal pressures to bow down and lick the shoes of every man who deigned to look at her.  
Clara didn't know The Woman's name, but dear God she was in deep.

xxx

As the weeks, months, and years passed (it probably wasn't a matter of years, but Clara had lost track of time long ago), Clara slowly committed The Woman to memory. Clara memorised the way her hair, rich and brown, bobbed and bounced when she walked. Clara learned the way she spoke, so confident and self-assured (The Woman had served in the war, Clara decided). Clearest of all though, Clara remembered that walk that so reminded her of her second love, her dearest wordsmith who inspired her to teach the way the Doctor inspired her to fight.  
Still though, Clara didn't know The Woman's name. Still though, she was in deep. Dear God, she was in deep.

xxx

It was winter when Clara learned The Woman's name. Peggy. Her name was Peggy, yet Clara still thought of her only as The Woman. Names were too complicated. Clara was immortal, and these people were so vibrant, so energetic, but they would only ever be shadows to Clara. Names made them real, and Clara couldn't afford to think that way, to think of how she could wait until these people had become dust, atoms, nothing, and Clara wouldn't have aged a day, for time would not allow her to do so.  
Clara knew The Woman's name, but she never used it. It didn't matter though, because she was in deep. Dear God, she was in deep.

xxx

It was winter again when Clara first spoke to The Woman, really spoke to her. She was English, a fact which had never occurred to Clara as a possibility. Her voice suited her perfectly. It was powerful. It demanded attention in a world which was so reluctant to give it to her.  
Once they started speaking, it became a regular occurrence. The Woman was well travelled, as well as she could be without a TARDIS (for Clara had long ago accepted the TARDIS as an unfair advantage in, well, everything). Clara enjoyed talking to The Woman.  
One conversation with The Woman when she was ageless, Clara came to the conclusion that the late 1940s were a fucking awful time. The Woman deserved respect, but the world would not give it to her.  
Clara didn't use The Woman's name, not when she was thinking, but she was in deep. Dear God, she was in deep.

xxx

For the third time in her life, Clara accepted the fact that she was in love. Danny, Jane, Peggy (because damn it, she just couldn't keep calling her The Woman), all of them had made Clara tear down her own walls. Clara knew those walls would be rebuilt again, they always were, but it felt so good to let someone understand her.  
Clara knew Peggy's name and she was in deep. Dear God, she was in deep.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't write this intending it to be part of the same canon as The Long Way Round, but I left it vague enough that it could be.


End file.
